Here are glimpses of some of the victims of the Sept. 11 attack on the World Trade Center.

ERIC B. EVANS

A Gardener With Standards

He was gorgeous. That much everybody agreed on.

But beneath his model's good looks, there were two different Eric B. Evanses. His parents, Charles and Corinne Evans, said he was reserved and quiet, a good student who had been a defensive lineman in high school, and who at 31 was determined to succeed in business.

The other Mr. Evans was a looser, self-assured guy with an infectious laugh who once roomed with three easygoing friends and set standards for them.

''He'd be the only one to have all his shirts pressed,'' said Keith Carlson, one of the roommates. ''We'd run out of shirts and take one of his. So on any given day, there could be four Eric Evans dress shirts out in the workplace,'' Mr. Carlson said. ''He yelled, but he never really minded.''

He made a point of being considerate. The week before Sept. 11, a neighbor was moving. She had a lot of stuff to throw out. He got a hand truck and carted it out to the curb, as some of the young residents of the block watched and egged him on. He did not need any help.

KEITH GLASCOE

Big Man, Big Heart

Keith Glascoe was a big man -- roughly 6-foot-4, 270 pounds -- but maybe the biggest thing about him was his heart. ''He was the sort who would stop and pick up a hurt animal in the street, take it to a doctor and pay for it,'' said his father, Benjamin Glascoe.

Given his size, football was inevitable. He started playing organized ball when he was 8 and twice made it to the New York Jets training camp. The second time, he was injured, but he played for a year in Italy, and learned to speak excellent Italian.

Back in New York, he caught the acting bug. Soon, there he was doing commercials and appearing on ''One Life to Live,'' ''Law and Order'' and ''100 Centre Street.'' He also had a part in the TV movie ''Assault on Devil's Island,'' but the best of all was playing Benny in the movie ''The Professional.''

He married Veronica Squef, and he yearned for a more regular job. His kindly nature meshed perfectly with the Fire Department, and he joined Ladder Company 21. Naturally, he played on the department's football team.

Firefighter Glascoe, 38, lived in Brooklyn with his wife and their two children, Nolan, 3, and Owen, 15 months. Ms. Squef is expecting a third child in April.

Off duty, he continued to go to casting calls. But his sons had discovered modeling, and so Firefighter Glascoe had a new role escorting them to their own auditions.

MICHEL P. COLBERT

More Than a Good Rsum

Michel P. Colbert had the ideal rsum, the kind that might appear in a how-to book about rsums. A master's degree from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. A succession of lucrative jobs in Paris, London and Milan. Fluency in French and Spanish. A balanced range of interests, from photography to scuba diving.

''I have developed proprietary mathematical models for yield curve analysis, embedded basis options,'' he wrote, in the rsum that helped him secure a job as a high-level bond trader with Cantor Fitzgerald.

But did Mr. Colbert really talk like that? No. And does his rsum completely reflect who he was? Of course not.

Michel Colbert was, more than anything else, the only child of Raymond and Marie Colbert. The parents were so close to their son that all three lived in the same apartment building in West New York, N.J., and ate dinner together just about every other night, said Raymond Colbert. ''And weekends, of course. And holidays.''

He was 38 years old. His parents are both 79. And now time crawls. ''Only child, you know?'' said Raymond Colbert. ''We are 16-C; he was 18-G.''

YUDH V. JAIN

Finishing What He Started

Yudh V. Jain was his wife's dream. He encouraged her to buy clothes. He did the grocery shopping and showered her with flowers and greeting cards on not-so-special days. And every night, he remembered to make her a cup of tea.

Despite her husband's devotion, Sneh Jain often joked that Mr. Jain's first wife was his studies. Long after he finished his formal schooling, Mr. Jain, 54, who had doctorates in computer science and chemical engineering, continued to study and upgrade his skills. His discipline rubbed off on his two daughters and Mrs. Jain, who sometimes struggled with her accounting job. ''He used to make me calm down,'' Mrs. Jain said. ''He said nothing is difficult if you put your mind to it.''

Mr. Jain was also an ethicist. He had only been at his job as a senior project manager at eSpeed Inc. for a little over a month when he decided the position was not a good fit for him. But rather than leave immediately, he decided to stay on and finish a project he had begun.

A few weeks after Sept. 11, Mrs. Jain received medicine for her migraine headaches in the mail. She was surprised because her husband usually bought it for her. ''I said, 'Oh my God, maybe he's hiding somewhere, and maybe he's teasing me,' '' she said. But it was just Mr. Jain being Mr. Jain; he had ordered her medicine on Sept. 10.

Aaron Jacobs wanted to retire at an early age and travel. He had already backpacked through Europe, taught English in Cozumel, Mexico, spent a semester in Madrid, climbed a volcano in Greece and vacationed with his family in Central America and the Caribbean.

But Mr. Jacobs, 27, was making plans for the ultimate trip -- his honeymoon with his bride-to-be, Jeannine McAteer. ''He was leaning toward Africa,'' Ms. McAteer said. ''He loved animals,'' and wanted to go on a safari.

Still, for Mr. Jacobs, who lived on Manhattan's Upper East Side, there was no place like home. A vice president and partner on the international trading desk at Cantor Fitzgerald, he was a fan of the city as an institution. He sought out ethnic restaurants, skated and jogged through Central Park and loved visiting museums. He also taught job skills to welfare recipients.

''He knew that he had achieved something with his life, but he was never someone to rub it in anyone's face or to feel like the fact that he was in this lucrative business made him any different,'' said his older brother, Josh Jacobs. ''He just remained a really loving and loyal person.''

MARY JO KIMMELMAN

'Time Out New York,' Live

Whenever friends or friends of friends came to town, Mary Jo Kimmelman eagerly became their tour guide. She knew so much about happenings in New York City that her mother once called her ''Time Out New York,'' after the magazine.

Ms. Kimmelman, 34, was always a taker when people had an extra ticket to concerts or sporting events. She often read poetry at clubs in Greenwich Village and ran up on stage when bands invited audience members to sing. About two years ago, Ms. Kimmelman impressed her friends by belting out a Melissa Etheridge tune at a bar near Wall Street. ''At the beginning she was a little nervous,'' said her friend Carolynn Kutz. ''But once she started going, she let it rip. The band helped her along and she shined.''

Ms. Kimmelman was passionate about photography and travel and was particularly smitten with Paris. She mused about getting executives at Cantor Fitzgerald, where she worked as a volume control clerk, to transfer her there. ''We always got a kick out of that,'' said her mother, Pat Kimmelman. ''I said, 'Mary, maybe you should learn to speak French first. You should go to London.' But she happened to like Paris better.''

GAYLE GREENE

Two Trips a Year

This year, for the first time, the Christmas lights outside Gayle Greene's town house in Montville, N.J., are red, white and blue.

Inside, however, nothing has changed: the holly arrangements are scattered about, as are Ms. Greene's cherished antique ornaments and the holiday-themed carousel horses that she collected. ''Every nook and cranny of everywhere she ever lived was covered with Christmas stuff,'' said Eileen Carey, Ms. Greene's best friend and roommate. ''So this year, in her honor, every decoration she ever had is going up.''

Ms. Greene, 51, worked as a vice president at Marsh & McLennan, commuting two hours each way to the World Trade Center and hauling out her laptop many nights to finish projects as she watched ''Eco-Challenge'' and other adventure shows on television.

But to satisfy her lifelong wanderlust, Ms. Greene always made time for two trips a year. She adored Alaska, Las Vegas, the Outer Banks of North Carolina and especially Hawaii.

The finest day of her life, she often said, was spent on a catamaran off the emerald-hued Na Pali coast of Kauai.

In her will, she asked that her ashes be scattered there.

CHRISTOPHER QUACKENBUSH

'Christmas Carol' All Year

Most people think of ''A Christmas Carol,'' the Charles Dickens classic, only during the holidays. But the tale of greed and redemption was on Christopher Quackenbush's mind his entire life.

As a founding principal at Sandler O'Neill & Partners, Mr. Quackenbush, 44, thrived on sharing his wealth. He created the Jacob Marley Foundation, which provides scholarships and programs for poor children on Long Island, including annual trips to Shea Stadium for Mets games. The Mets themselves once played Tiny Tim to Mr. Quackenbush's Scrooge: he flew some team members to Washington on his company jet last June to meet President Bush.

In keeping with the story that haunted him, Mr. Quackenbush's generosity peaked at Christmas. ''He would give us all a trip somewhere,'' his sister, Gail, said. ''A ticket to whatever we really wanted to do.''

Not only that, but Mr. Quackenbush took his wife, Traci, their three children and a throng of relatives to see ''A Christmas Carol'' at Madison Square Garden every December, reminding them not only of the importance of spreading good fortune, but of having fun doing it. They have resolved to go without him this year. ''We're not going to have a good time,'' Gail Quackenbush said, ''but we're trying.''

MARIANNE MacFARLANE

Haircuts at Disney World

The MacFarlanes of Revere, Mass., did everything together. They lived side by side in two houses built by their Irish immigrant ancestors after the Civil War. Marianne MacFarlane, 34, the middle child and only girl, was a customer service representative for United Airlines at Logan Airport. She lived with her mother, Anne, also a customer service representative in the same terminal at Logan.

Marianne MacFarlane's brother, George, his wife, her children, and George's brother, Joseph, lived next door. Except for the children, they all worked at Logan Airport at one time or another.

The MacFarlanes took advantage of the free flights that are offered to airline employees to travel together. Marianne MacFarlane -- tall, blond, vivacious -- and her mother flew to Disney World just to get their hair cut by a hairdresser at the Contemporary Resort Hotel.

On Sept. 11, Ms. MacFarlane was traveling alone on United Flight 175, headed for the West Coast for a vacation.

JOHN DiFATO

Always in Contact

John DiFato and Susan Giaccio fell in love at Macy's. She was working there when he walked in with a friend. She had known him vaguely from college. ''He said something cute,'' she remembered. ''I instantly fell in love with the cleft in his chin.

''We were each other's soul mates,'' she said. When Anthony, 10, Nicole, 9, and John, 3, were born, he called their births a miracle. Like many couples joined at the heart, husband and wife were in constant telephone contact all day. Mr. DiFato, 39, went to his job as a business security controller at Cantor Fitzgerald in the World Trade Center early, and he always phoned so he could say goodbye to Anthony and Nicole before school.

And ''during the day he would be beeping me -- like, where are you?'' Mrs. DiFato said. Sometimes she would be running for an appointment and when she heard her beeper she would mutter, ''O.K., now what?''

On Sept. 11, when she learned of the attack on the World Trade Center, she tried to beep Mr. DiFato. There was no answer.

THELMA CUCCINELLO

'Nuts at Christmas'

Christmas was Thelma Cuccinello's favorite holiday, a time when she could deck her house in Wilmot, N.H., with all the ornaments and decorations she had made over the years. And not just her house. Her eldest daughter, Cheryl O'Brien, who lives in Bedford, Mass., recently opened a box of Christmas wreaths, only to realize that every one had been made by her mother. ''She made the skirt for our Christmas tree, the decoration for our mantlepiece,'' Mrs. O'Brien said. ''She and Dad would go nuts at Christmas.''

When her three daughters were growing up in Lexington, Mass., Mrs. Cuccinello made their clothes, costumes for Halloween and other occasions, and costumes for the girls' friends as well. Later, Mrs. Cuccinello, 71, made quilts for each one of her 10 grandchildren. To her daughters now scattered around the country, she sent weekly packets of motherly advice: articles about teenage acne and the dangers of Internet access to Mrs. O'Brien, a mother of two boys, and about homemade anti-cockroach poison and bug sprays to her daughter in Florida.

Mrs. Cuccinello, who moved with her husband, Albert, to western New Hampshire, was in many ways a storybook grandmother -- cozy and game. She traveled when she could -- to Europe, Hawaii and California, where she was headed on Sept. 11 aboard American Airlines 11, to visit her sister and brother-in-law.

GARY BRIGHT

Not a Lot of Spare Time

Gary Bright was still working flat out, usually seven days a week, sometimes at two jobs. Late last summer, he put together a combination that suited him fine: working evenings as a waiter at Spazzio's restaurant on Columbus Avenue and, during the days, as a temporary insurance analyst at Aon Insurance in the World Trade Center.

He came to New York from Indiana about six years ago with a master's degree in therapy, and in his spare time -- of which there was not much -- he counseled a child pro bono. But mostly he worked. ''He was one of the hardest-working people I have ever met,'' said Sarah Adams, who worked with him at Spazzio's. ''If anybody deserved success, it was him. He was intelligent, he was warm and he gave us all advice.''

His mother, Anna Bright, said, ''He wanted to get ahead, he was big on that.'' He had recently bought himself a house in Union City, N.J. -- a ''kind of a fixer-upper,'' said Mrs. Bright, who came east from her home in Muncie, Ind., to help with the fixing. ''He turned the backyard into a little park, with a fish pond and a fountain,'' she said. But Mr. Bright was not planning to stay there long. ''It was just a beginner house,'' his mother said.

GERARD JEAN BAPTISTE

Treats for Dogs, and Himself

There is a decent chance that Gerard Jean Baptiste had dog biscuits in his pockets when he died. A New York firefighter, he routinely carried treats to give to the pets that walked past Ladder 9 in SoHo. That helped start conversations with the children -- or the women -- that the dogs towed with them.

The abundance of beautiful women was one reason Firefighter Baptiste loved New York, and especially his job site. ''Being American, he thought New York was the most beautiful city in the world,'' said Delphine Leymarie, his girlfriend.

On his fifth birthday, March 11, 1971, he flew to the United States from his native Santo Domingo. As soon as the plane reached cruising altitude, ''he said, 'Now we're in America,' '' recalled his mother, Gladys Rodriguez.

Mr. Baptiste studied one thing after another to get ahead in life. He tried graphic arts and computers, he joined the New York National Guard, and he was working to became an officer in the Fire Department. After postings in the Bronx and Brooklyn, he finally seemed happy with the place where he worked.

And then there were the dog biscuits. ''I always found crumbs in his pockets,'' Ms. Leymarie said.

KEITHROY MAYNARD

A Role Model by Choice

Keithroy Maynard was black. He was also a firefighter. Those two things meant everything to him, said his twin brother, Kevin.

''People do look to you,'' he said. ''You're like a role model in a sense, especially in the black community where there aren't many black firefighters.''

The New York Fire Department has been criticized for its lack of diversity. Firefighter Maynard was one of those determined to change that. After becoming a firefighter in 1999 at age 28, he joined the Vulcan Society, a group of black firefighters.

Mr. Maynard visited predominantly black neighborhoods to encourage others to take the Fire Department test. He worked with the Vulcan Society to train applicants to pass the department's physical exam.

He was part of Engine 33 in the East Village, but he wanted to get posted to a firehouse in his home neighborhood of East Flatbush, Brooklyn, so that children there could know the life of a firefighter, his brother said.

Mr. Maynard was recruited by his father, a New York firefighter of 36 years. His father drove him to the fire academy at 5 a.m. on the first day of classes. Months after Mr. Maynard graduated, his father died, his final dream fulfilled.

Mr. Maynard's dress uniform and spare work jacket now sit in his mother's house. His nametags are on them. His brother said the only person who will be able to fill them is Mr. Maynard's 6-year-old son, Keithroy Jr., another firefighter in the making.

STEVEN H. RUSSIN

A Childlike Wonder

There was something about Steven H. Russin that made his wife, Andrea, think of Tom Hanks's character in the movie ''Big.''

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She recalled a visit to a gallery in Sarasota, Fla. The couple had no intention of buying any of the expensive artwork, but that did not stop Mr. Russin from questioning the sales staff so intently that they took the couple for serious buyers and invited them to a special back room. There, they drank Champagne.

''The rest of us would've walked on and gotten ice cream,'' she said. ''Steve was the type of person who would start asking all sorts of questions, like a child.''

He had plenty of practice with questions from one particular child, his 2-year-old son, Alec Joseph, and he was very excited that Mrs. Russin was pregnant with twins, who were born on Sept. 15.

Early in the morning of Sept. 11, before Mr. Russin went to work at Cantor Fitzgerald, Mrs. Russin sent him to get her a glass of water. Of course, one glass was not enough, she said, laughing.

''He said, 'I probably should've brought the pitcher,' '' Mrs. Russin said. ''I told him, 'That's okay, you'll get it next time.' That was the last thing that I said to him.''

There was the time that Gregory R. Sikorsky decided to take his youngest brother, Perry, up in a four-seater Cessna. But after they got up at 6 a.m., after they had driven an hour to the airport, the plane's battery turned out to be dead. So he drove his truck onto the highway and jump-started the plane. Then they took off.

Below them was Spring Valley, N.Y., where they and two other brothers had grown up, where their parents lived, where Gregory Sikorsky, 34, was raising a 3-year-old son with his wife, Marie.

''I've never seen Rockland County from the air before,'' his brother said. ''He showed me our parent's house and the garage. He even let me fly the plane. It really was amazing.''

He took his youngest brother with him on many of his adventures, sometimes for company, sometimes for competition. After Firefighter Sikorsky finished a year at auto-body school in Colorado, the two drove back to New York together in a Chevy Blazer.

They took their first skydiving trip together. And they recently rode in a Harley Davidson rally from New York to a drive-in diner in New Jersey.

THOMAS S. STRADA

'Sky Was the Limit'

What made Terry Strada fall fast in love with her husband, Thomas, when they met 20 years ago? ''Oh my God, he was the most fun person I ever knew,'' Mrs. Strada said. ''He would take me out, and the sky was the limit. Limos, dinners. I said I liked the Boston Celtics; he flew me to Boston to see them.''

Three months after Mr. Strada's death, his wife is still inundated with calls from people eager to reminisce about thrills they experienced, courtesy of Thomas Strada.

''If they went fishing with him, it was the best fishing trip they ever had,'' Mrs. Strada said. ''If they went to the track with him and he won money, he'd share it and make everyone a winner for the night.''

Mr. Strada, 41, a bond broker at Cantor Fitzgerald, also ensured that his son, Thomas, 7, and daughter, Kaitlyn, 4, experienced as much exhilaration as they could handle. The family visited Disney World three times since Tommy was born. Just 10 days before his death, Mr. Strada helped the boy catch his first bass.

There is one family member, however, who has missed out on the joy of life with Mr. Strada. He is Justin Thomas, Mr. Strada's third child. He was just four days old on Sept. 11.

ALAN D. KLEINBERG

Planning a Park, and Legacy

On Sept. 10, Alan D. Kleinberg spent the evening at the East Brunswick Township Council, where he lobbied to move forward with a community skate park, a nod to his oldest son's affection for in-line skating. On the hot-button issue, known to provoke emotions, he was respected as a negotiator and mediator who helped gain acceptance for the idea.

''He did this for his child,'' said Jacque Eaker, special assistant to the East Brunswick Township mayor.

At 39, Mr. Kleinberg thrived on his job as a securities trader at Cantor Fitzgerald, but family was the focus of his time off, whether it was planning a special trip for his wife, Mindy, coaching the basketball team of his 10-year-old son, Jacob, taking his 7-year-old daughter, Lauren, to dance class or a Saturday afternoon ice skating with the children, including his 3-year-old son, Sam.

''Whatever was good in this world, he took and gave to them,'' said Gail Rubin, his mother-in-law.

On Oct. 15, the council endorsed the park plan. Work is to begin this spring.

JAMES R. COYLE

The Force Was With Him

James R. Coyle wanted to be Luke Skywalker. But because of certain difficulties in pursuing that career path, he decided to do what he thought was the next best thing, which was fighting fires.

Sure, there was no flying across galaxies or rescuing princesses, but joining the New York Fire Department had its own rewards.

Both of his grandfathers were New York firefighters. Firefighter Coyle joined the department's cadet program while studying at Brooklyn College. He was 22 when he graduated as valedictorian of that program on a wet June day about four years ago.

For the next three years, he worked as an emergency medical technician. He delivered a baby in the back of an ambulance. He ducked bullets in crime-ridden neighborhoods.

Last December, he completed training in the fire academy and joined Ladder Company 3 in the East Village. One grandfather gave the firefighter his old fire hat.

The last glimpse his mother, Regina Coyle, had of Firefighter Coyle was on her television set on Sept. 11, when a local television station was doing a morning show on cooking in the firehouse. He had just finished a night shift, she said, and he was there to eat meal before heading off to Chicago on vacation.

MARK L. ROSENBERG

Saving Gas, and the World

Mark L. Rosenberg met his future wife, Jennifer, in 1995 on a seven-hour bus ride to Richmond, Va., for a Jewish youth program. He was trying to shine a flashlight on a book and turn the pages at the same time. She sat behind him, and finally offered to hold the flashlight. He gratefully accepted.

''I thought he was really cute,'' said Mrs. Rosenberg, who recalled being smitten by his green-blue eyes and smile.

Mr. Rosenberg, 26, a software developer for Marsh & McLennan, was no stranger to buses, or subways, for that matter. His friends called him ''Mr. Public Transportation'' because he favored mass transit over driving because of concern for the environment. His wife recalls him hailing a cab only three times during their courtship and marriage.

Christopher R. Zarba Jr. was just a baby when the Boston Pops performed a piece composed by his father, ''Palm Sunday,'' in 1954. The younger Mr. Zarba inherited his family's musical genes, and grew up to be a talented pianist and French horn player who performed with local symphonies in his free time. He even married a fellow horn player, Sheila Kiernan.

Mr. Zarba, 47, lived with his wife and young son, Christopher James, in Hopkinton, Mass., before he boarded American Airlines Flight 11. A software engineer by profession, he also painted, gardened, and learned to speak German and Italian fluently. He was perpetually curious, and even keeping algebra and calculus books around the house to read for pleasure.

''He was always investigating,'' said his only brother, Joe Zarba.

To remember Mr. Zarba, his father, wife, and brother-in-law performed ''Palm Sunday'' last month with the Thayer Symphony Orchestra in Fitchburg, Mass. His uncle sang the national anthem. Mr. Zarba, who had played with the symphony for more than a decade, talked about performing his father's work, but never got the chance.

''I think Chris would have just loved it,'' Mrs. Zarba said.

MARIA LA VACHE

Just the Girls

It was a perfect summer night. August 28, 2001. The 60th birthday of Maria La Vache: wife of 38 years to Joseph, mother of Mary Jane, 36, and Bernice, 33. Mrs. La Vache did not want anything fancy or special, she insisted -- just a nice quiet dinner with the family. They went to the River Cafe in Brooklyn.

Mrs. La Vache worked as a receptionist for Marsh & McLennan, on the 99th floor of 1 World Trade Center. Her daughters will miss their ''girls' night out,'' when the La Vache women would take in a movie or go to the theater or out to dinner.

They could talk to her about anything, they said. That is why they never moved out of their parents' home in the Dyker Heights section of Brooklyn. Mrs. La Vache enjoyed meeting their friends. And her Italian cooking.

Which reminded Mary Jane La Vache of some unfinished business. Her mother recently redesigned the family kitchen. All it needs now are shutters for the windows.

WANDA PRINCE

Coffee Healed All Wounds

Wanda Prince had a weakness for coffee. Whenever she was upset with her husband, Edward, about leaving his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor (again) or leaving his dirty dishes in the sink (again), Mr. Prince would woo her back with a strong cup of Joe. ''She just loved coffee,'' said Mr. Prince.

They were opposites who attracted.

Mrs. Prince was ''a neatnik.'' He left clothes on the floor. She was a Mets fan. He loved the Yankees. She loved her cat, Lucky. Lucky got on Mr. Prince's nerves.

They first met at a tailgate party at Giants Stadium. Both were involved with other people. They fell in love, the second time they met, after their other relationships had fallen apart.

Mrs. Prince, 30, worked long days as a trader at Fiduciary Trust Company on the 94th floor of 2 World Trade Center. She was at her desk at 7:30 a.m. and often did not return home to Staten Island until 7:30 p.m. Mr. Prince, a firefighter, would have dinner waiting for her.

Along with a cup of coffee.

BRIAN P. MONAGHAN JR.

The Archetypal Good Kid

His friends nicknamed Brian P. Monaghan Jr., ''slick'' -- but not the deceptive, smooth-talking, street-smart kind of slick. Around Inwood, where he lived, Mr. Monaghan was known as the archetypal good kid, a 21-year-old who helped elderly women across streets and went to the store for neighbors who could not.

No, they called him Slick because of the way he wore his hair: smoothed back, matinee-idol style.

He grew up playing baseball and handball on the courts near 207th Street. The older guys use to tease Brian Sr., the Little League coach, that Junior was not going to be a New York Yankee. But if the former World Champs drafted on the basis of heart, Brian Jr. would have been wearing pinstripes for a living.

He chose carpentry as a profession. Sept. 11 would have been his second day on the job at Certified Installation Services on the 98th floor of 2 World Trade Center. Mr. Monaghan had already made an impression on his co-workers.

After Sept. 11, his new colleagues said what those who have known Brian Jr. all his life have said: he was a good kid.

KATHRYN ANNE SHATZOFF

When not Collecting, Giving

Kathryn Anne Shatzoff was not a collector, really, but her husband, Neil, the owner of a comic book shop, was. So a few years ago, he got her started collecting Barbie dolls.

He gave her an ''I Love Lucy'' doll as a gift, and now he's lost count of all the fancy dolls in their Riverdale home.

''We ran out of shelf space,'' said Mr. Shatzoff, chuckling.

In fact, Mrs. Shatzoff had carried a torch for Barbie since childhood, said her mother, Anne Davidson. A Manhattan native, Mrs. Shatzoff, 37, was an assistant in the risk management division of Marsh & McLennan, but spent a lot of her free time doing crafts and buying gifts for other people -- no occasion necessary.

''She was the kind of person that would talk you into wanting something, just so she could go and buy it for you,'' said her husband.

Christmas, Mrs. Shatzoff's favorite holiday, will not be the same this year.

''I used to surprise her with stuff,'' said Mr. Shatzoff. ''Every Christmas, we'd say, let's not buy each other anything, it's too much.''

But then he would buy gifts for her anyway. And even though he did it every year, every year she was still surprised.

And she did the same for him.

MICHAEL CLARKE

Born for a Firetruck

Jack Clarke may have been a New York City police officer, but from the very beginning his youngest son, Michael, had this affinity for firefighting.

''When he was young, he just loved to sit in the engines at the fire house,'' said Michael Clarke's father, who remembers giving his son that bright red firetruck he pedaled around in.

And so, even though he became a top student at Wagner College and a star on the hockey team, it was not a surprise to his father when Michael Clarke joined the Fire Department three years ago.

Firefighter Clarke, 27, was delighted several months ago to be transferred from Staten Island to Engine 8 and Ladder 2 on East 51st Street in Manhattan, ''because there was much more action in Manhattan,'' his father said.

Sept. 11 was a scheduled day off; Firefighter Clarke went to work because he had switched days with another firefighter.

Now, at Wagner College, they have retired Michael Clarke's hockey number -- 34. His father misses those regular phone calls from him, the ones that came to mean so much more after Jack Clarke's wife, Eileen, died three years ago.

''He'd call every day,'' the father recalls. ''And he'd say, 'Hi, Pop. How you doing?' ''

DAVID B. BRADY

A Soccer Dad

At 41, David B. Brady had the trappings of success: an office on the 39th floor of the World Financial Center, where he was a first vice president at Merrill Lynch, and a home in Summit, N.J.

He also had his priorities: faith, family and friends. A devout Catholic, he attended Mass almost every day and occasionally wrote prayers, said his wife of 12 years, Jennifer. But he never made a big deal of it.

''He would just say, 'I'm doing a cameo,' '' said Joy Fingleton, an assistant.

And he made sure that his four children -- Matthew, 9; Erin, 6; Mark 4; and Grace, 2 -- saw him every day. ''If he had an evening meeting, he'd stay home for breakfast,'' Ms. Brady said. ''Or sometimes he'd even come home for lunch.''

He was an eager school volunteer. ''I think it was shocking to his clients, who would call to find out that he was gone for an hour but he would be back from reading in his daughter's class out in Summit, N.J.,'' Ms. Brady said.

On Sept. 11, he went to 1 World Trade Center to meet with a client on the 106th floor. Now, every night his family prays for him with the words he taught them: ''Thank you, Jesus, for the love you bring. Thank you, Jesus, for everything.''

PETER G. WALLACE

Opa's Second Chance

Peter G. Wallace believed that being a grandparent was a better deal than being a parent -- all of the love and almost none of the work.

''We get a second chance,'' said his wife, Charlotte. ''We may not have the energy, but we have a lot of patience.'' Mr. Wallace had five second chances -- Andy, Zachary, Kristen, Lauren and Benjamin. They called him ''Opa'' and ''Pa.''

Mr. Wallace, 66, still worked as a vice president at Marsh & McLennan, but he always had enough time to read to his grandchildren. The titles he read were the same enduring Dr. Seuss classics from his daughters' childhood -- ''The Cat in the Hat'' and ''Green Eggs and Ham.'' When one grandson wanted a story read, he would pull the glasses out of Peter's shirt pocket and hand them to him.

A few days after Sept. 11, Zachary, 5, looked up and exclaimed that he saw a star against the daytime sky. His skeptical father looked up, and surprisingly enough there was a shimmering white speck fixed against the blue. What could that be, asked the father. The boy responded confidently, ''That's a star from God to show that we miss Pa.''

Correction: December 12, 2001, Wednesday Because of an editing error, a biographical sketch on Saturday about a World Trade Center victim, a firefighter at Ladder Company 9 in SoHo, misstated his name. He was Gerard Baptiste, not Gerard Jean Baptiste. He had no middle name.